


The Collector

by MistyEyedCrow



Series: Misty's Complete Collection of One-shots [16]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bloodshed, Character Death, Suicide Attempt, and Doc realises this isn't just a harmless war anymore, but anyway, but it doesn't matter much if ya don't know, but there is a twist!, cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!, he gets stopped don't worry, if they took things too far in a permanent death AU, it's in an implied Taurtis POV, it's not in Doc's POV, no this is real war, partly bittersweet, sorry i need to find some use of these lit quotes, this is hermitcraft civil war but bloody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:20:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25395268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyEyedCrow/pseuds/MistyEyedCrow
Summary: Fire crawls along the swaying grass in the fields, leaving behind a trail of ashes. The two bases faced each other on opposite sides, still smoking along the cracks and holes in the walls. Bodies littered the space between, weapons laying dormant in limp hands, messy with blood.In the middle of it all knelt Doc, one knee on the ground, a bloody trident stuck deeply in the ground. He wasn't moving.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: Misty's Complete Collection of One-shots [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996384
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	The Collector

"Please, I just need more time."

The woman mumbled like a prayer, frail hands clasped together as tightly as she had held on to life. He stared back down at her kneeling form, face stoic and heart empty. He'd been doing this for too long, long enough that his empathy had dried up, his heart too numb to each broken plead and prayer.

Most were quiet, accepting of their fate. Some cried, some shouted, some cursed the ground beneath him with wicked tongues. No one ever seemed to be ready for his arrival, always wishing for more time, for life instead. Trying to find a way out of the system, to claw their way back to life for even just a moment longer. All the lies they told, for just one more second.

Whatever their excuses were, he'd heard them all. And nothing ever changed their fate.

Offering nothing more than an exhale of air, he knelt down to her level, cold fingers reaching for her head even as she muttered a constant stream of 'no's. Slowly, he tugged her soul free from the aged body, allowing himself a few moments to see the flashes of her life, as a final commemoration. A bicycle racing down the street, slow dancing in a hotel room, a laughing baby boy, and hand held tightly in a hospital bed. The moment passed, and he felt her soul seep into his ring, pulsing warmly for a second.

He felt a pull from afar, feeling himself appear at that place in a split second. He always had a job to do, somewhere. Looking around the place he'd landed in, he took in the sight of bodies littering the ground, flames still crawling along the grassy plains. Buildings looming on opposite sides, cracked and destroyed in some places, still smoking around the holes in the walls. All the signs of war. He turned one full circle around the field, gaze landing on a lone figure kneeling in the middle, a trident still stuck deeply in the ground. He didn't seem to be moving.

He ignored the man for his mission, walking purposely to the bodies around the floor, some still twitching in pain. These people had no more strength in them to fight him, allowing him to easily collect their souls. A zombie hoard, immeasurable pain, a crew sailing in the seven seas. A crystal green eye, a chase through the skies, a handshake from a closed deal. He allowed himself time to collect these particular souls, acknowledging their final pain of betrayal from friends, from allies.

If he could still feel, he would mourn these souls. Driven by anger, pushed to the limit, unable to see the true consequences until much too late.

He looked down at a particular body, blood blending into its red sweater, feeling a twinge of recognition in his mind. Almost as if he'd known him before. But he remembered nothing from before being given his task as death's collector, from the watchers. Tugging on his blue cloak almost absentmindly, he knelt down next to this body, the last to collect, hands going through the motions.

Anguish from a world ablaze, running away, opening a box containing a strangely familiar pair of headphones.

He shook his head clear of the thoughts as the soul joined the rest in his ring. Turning away from the empty vessels now, he made to move to the next location, when a sudden movement caught his eye. The kneeling man had gotten up now, bloodshot eye looking directly at him, his mechanical eye glowing red. He seemed almost maniacal, he noted distantly.

"Take me with you."

The voice that came out was broken, barely a whisper. He had the feeling that this man was never like this, that the war had scarred him permanently. Not everyone could see death like he was then, not everyone knew what true loss was.

He stared back in reply, no response in his mind. He could feel his ring pulse warmly in the silence, as if the souls themselves had something to say. A voice of comfort, or accusation, he didn't know.

He should leave, he should say something, do something. But the silence stretched on as he could only look back, the gentle breeze swaying the ends of his cloak. Some part of him was keeping him there.

"I did this. I deserve to go too, please."

The man was pleading now, the blood-soakedends of his coat swaying almost desperately in the wind. Both green and metals hands shook heavily in the air, shivering like he depending on it. But he had no response for the man, whose timer had too much time still left, a whole life still ahead. How could he tell this broken man that he had more time, when the other collected soul's time was cut short by him?

He felt it coming before he saw it, as the man's hand lifted the bloody trident in its deathly grip. He shouldn't care, really, he was just another soul to collect. But some part of him, a part he thought was buried deep down too long ago, brought forward a twinge of pity. He reached out towards the last soul still lying on the floor, the only one whose time hadn't ran out. He could feel the magic surrounding them, knew they were powerful enough to stop the man, if he intervened.

Without hesitation, he sent off a pulse of magic, feeling it hit two other people in the distance as well as the nearby body. The man on the ground shot up with a gasp, head darting from side to side before freezing, locking in on the rising trident. Those purple eyes widened from behind a broken helmet, a strangled cry pushing from his throat. 

He only watched as the admin launched himself forward with torn wings, tackling the cyborg man before the trident could impale his body. The two men wrestled for control, until the admin wrenched the trident from his drip and cast it aside, pinning the cyborg under his weight.

It was in that moment where the cyborg truly broke, seizing all struggles as tears ran freely from his bloodshot eye, the other blinking red weakly. Over the hill, the two other magic users came flying, hands already raised in battle, their glowing blue eyes only dying out when they saw what was happening.

"Doc! Xisuma! What-" The one in the lab coat paused, taking in the scene, of bodies too still on the ground. The other one kept running, helping the admin with the cyborg on the ground. He watched almost curiously as the man's gaze swept across the field, narrowing at the sight of him, still standing there. Maybe wondering why he was still here, who was next.

He should leave.

He tuned back in to the multiple calls from afar now, giving the field one last backwards glance, his gaze lingering on the numb cyborg and that infuriatingly familiar red sweater a little aways. Steeling himself with a breath he didn't need, he allowed himself to appear someplace else, where a man was suffocating too long awaiting his arrival.

He had lost a lot of time, time that didn't matter much to him. Still, he knew the watchers would not be happy with his delay, knew immediately that they would wipe away his memory the moment he returned with a ring full of souls. No matter his curiosity, he would never know what happened in the aftermath of that blood-soaked field.

Part of him knew, deep down, it wouldn't be the last time he saw them.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been feeling real uninspired with the drafts I've got going, so I took some time off these drafts to open a new story and just see where it goes, with a small prompt I made a while back to use.
> 
> I ended up going very off track to my original idea, but I must say I'm pretty pleased with this! Sure, it may be slightly experimental and maybe not the clearest fic, but at least it's something :")
> 
> hope you enjoyed it! It was pretty fun building on this concept haha :)


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